Sodapop Curtis Drawing Novels & Stories

-Curtis: Toots, I want to see you in that daring black lace underwire bustier with cutout panties. I blushed with an exciting grin. -Me: Just name the time and I'll be ready for you. -Curtis: Eleven should be good. Most of these guys are usually in their own zones by then. -Me: Don't disappoint me, Curtis. I truly miss you. -Curtis: I am trying to get some days off so that I can have you to myself. I will officially make you mine when I get back. Are you ready to be marked by me?

Kitty looked into his eyes still with suspicion but this time she was listening. "Really. You chose gin as the only base for this drink, and you gave it a cold blue color on the top. Lemon was mixed into the blue level with jasmine, but you left a bit sweet pine needle flavored level under it and colored it white. This IS your drawing. You paint, right?" Curtis analyzes as he took another sip of the drink after he gazed into it for a few seconds. "How-- how did you know?!" Kitty laughed with surprise. Her mentor really DID know his way around a drink!

Mercedes' POV “Can I see?” I asked Carter who shrieked and hud his paper behind his back. “Carter what's wrong? You've been drawing for hours, can I see?” I asked again but the little boy shook his head. “Why not?” I inquired. “I'm not yet done,” he replied. “Carter never shows me his drawings and he laughs at mine.” Penelope pouted as she rose her paper and showed me her drawing. There were four stickmen, two bigger ones on either side while two smaller ones stood in the middle smiling as they held their hands together.

But until they had Sapphire out of whatever nightmare she’d gotten herself into, he had to tread carefully. Unlike most of the Donovans, who were tall and blond, Curtis was a short, stocky guy with shoulder-length brown hair and a goatee. He had small, kinda beady brown eyes, and a nose that looked too long for his face. At first glance, he seemed harmless enough, until you got to know what a ruthless little bastard he was. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here,” Curtis said. “I lost one of my best men because of you, and had to fire another.” Razl snorted. “If they were your best, Donovan, then you need to do some new recruiting.”

"You need these more than I do." That night, around the bonfire, someone commented on the fragrant cream on Curtis's hands. "Hand cream," he replied proudly. His men, intrigued, learned it was his partner's creation, designed to soften and protect their calloused hands. They were amazed to learn his partner also made the medicines he'd shared with them. Suddenly, a frantic cry pierced the night. "Curtis! Curtis! Someone's bullying my sister!" The same boy from earlier rushed towards him. "Curtis! Where are you going?!" his men shouted, but Curtis was already running, the boy clutched in his arms.

Sinclair, the visual teacher, approached me. I felt shy at her comment and wondered if she was telling the truth or just being kind to me. I settled for the last thought. She led me towards the picture booth. "I'll do good, Ms. Sinclair," I said after she walked off, right after showing me the picture booth box. She nodded, and I slapped my head, wishing I'd said nothing. I haven't been here for five minutes, and I'm already showing my weirdness. I cursed myself. Shortly, couples were popping up, and the party began. Some came to take pictures. Since the school couldn't afford a better picture booth machine. I had to be the one to collect the cash they had to pay before taking a picture.

It wasn’t anybody terrifying – though he suspected that some people might disagree with him on that point – since it was Dillon Saunders, his fellow badass, kick-ass bouncer. Dillon nodded in greeting, Curtis returned it. Dillon stalked over to the staffroom, shedding his heavy leather jacket as he went, returned a minute later. He looked around the room, checking things with his practiced eye, then headed over to Curtis. “OK night?” Dillon said in his husky voice, without preamble or small-talk, as per usual. “Trouble?” “None,” Curtis replied. “Tables to watch?” Curtis gestured at one near the pool tables. “The Road Devils are here tonight.”

“So, how are you finding Havermouth?” “Alright,” she shrugged a shoulder, her eyes on the sketch pad. It was Cameron that she drew, Rhett thought, the lines of chin and jaw were right, nose and eyes… If Cameron was made into a cartoon, that would be him, right down the fall of curl over his forehead. Obviously, he had made enough of an impression that the girl was sketching him. She saw Rhett looking, and closed her artbook, defensively, flushing. “It’s alright,” she repeated. “Quiet.”

He was a happy father but also wanted both of his sons to be happy. Curtis was used to luxury so for as long as he was concerned, only the environment and people had changed. Since his daddy whom he always wanted to meet all his life was right before him together with his surprise twin brother, Curtis was over the moon. “No, everything is fine. I like the gray designs,” he observed and acknowledged. Garvin realized that Luna had done more than expected and printed most of the pictures she took of them, framing them in large portraits and hanging them on the walls.

Curtis reached out and picked up a pencil from the table and held it, not writing anything, just holding it between two fingers and tapping the eraser end against his palm in a slow, even rhythm. "Sit down," Theo said. I pulled out the empty chair beside him and sat. Jake went back to his mug and leaned against the counter, still chewing. Pete got his left boot on and was working at the right one. The man by the window folded the map along its crease and set it on the floor. "Tea?" Theo asked. "I had some," I said. He nodded and looked at his own cup. Curtis stopped tapping the pencil and put it down flat on the table, parallel to the edge.